This Way
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: "You are not really my type, Tony." Their eyes meet, and no words are needed for them both to know she is lying. Oneshot. Tiva smut. Rated M for a reason. You've been warned.


**Okay. So… I have ventured into the world of smut. I think my first attempt went fairly well, but I'll see what you guys think.**

**(Please note that it **_**is**_** smut, and it's rated M for a reason. You won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to continue.)**

**Enjoy.**

_She crosses one leg over the other, smoothes the hem of her short black dress. The counter is pressing into her back and it isn't comfortable, but the expression on her face remains cool, bored, as if all she is thinking about is the straw between her lips. In reality, all her senses are heightened as she locks into her photographic memory every single detail of the bar._

_There are no stakes tonight. She is here for pleasure, not business; there is no reason for her to memorize the layout, to locate the exits. It happens naturally by now, though. Before she realizes what she's doing, she has already cased the joint, and then there is information she will never use clogging her mind._

_Just once, she would like to do something that does not last as long as her memory. She wants to have an experience, something that cannot be replicated, something undertaken with reckless abandon. This habit of facing everything as if it is a potential mission is beginning to annoy her- and now it is back, suddenly, as she feels eyes boring into the side of her face. She snaps her head around and meets the gaze of a man is his thirties, with green eyes and sandy brown hair, sitting alone in a booth. Something shifts inside her; something changes in that moment during which she sees him for the first time, but she cannot for the life of her say what is different._

_He looks away first. She returns her attention to the drink she holds, trying to calm her racing heart, to squelch the silly thoughts in her head. He is a man; she can take him or leave him. That is how she views men. There is no reason for the way she feels drawn to this stranger, for her intense desire to walk over to him, to speak to him, to touch him._

_Then she looks up, and he is standing right there._

_All pretenses of reason fall from her possession._

"_Another mojito for the lady," he tells the bartender, and plants himself on the stool beside her. Clearly he is used to picking up women, although she does detect a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. Even this smooth-talker seems to be intimidated by her._

_Good._

"_Observant," she says, sliding her half-empty glass away in favor of the new one._

_He takes a swig of his beer. "Observant enough to notice a beautiful woman alone. Where's the mister?"_

"_Nonexistent."_

"_Hmm." Leaning closer with the corners of his lips twitching, he says, "I guess it's my lucky night, then."_

_She scoots forward, too, and positions her knees so they reside between his. When she is close enough to feel his hot breath fanning over her mouth, she allows herself to mirror his smirk. "I suppose it is."_

0000000000

"You are being ridiculous," Ziva says, kicking off her boots and propping her bare feet up on the dashboard of the car. "How much longer do I have to listen to this ham?"

Tony takes a hand from the wheel and swats playfully at her leg. "First of all, you mean bologna. Second, we aren't getting there for three more hours. And _third, _I'm serious."

Her laughter is carried out the open window, tossed into the wind rushing by. "I know this is hard on your ego, Tony," she says, "but if we didn't know each other and you tried those pick-up lines on me, I would probably punch you."

"See, you can't say that now, because you've had years to build an immunity to the DiNozzo charm."

"I did not have to build it."

"Lies, David." He turns toward her, waggling his eyebrows. "You did, after all, seem to enjoy that undercover assignment."

She gapes and shoves him. It's lucky this stretch of highway is deserted, because the car swerves into the other lane.

"Ziva!"

"It was a _job_, Tony. There was no enjoyment for me; I only thought of how to make the mission successful. Now, _you_- I seem to remember that your _knee_ was having a fine time."

Tony's jaw drops, but only for a moment. Then he regains his composure and puts on a husky voice, watching for her reaction out of the corner of his eye. "My gorgeous partner was rolling around with me in a bed. Naked. Can you blame me?"

0000000000

_He doesn't think he's ever met somebody like her. Most of the women he brings home are a little too eager, maybe even desperate, but from the moment she steps into his apartment, she gives the distinct impression that it is she who owns the place. Her heels are tossed aside at the door, and, in bare feet, she surveys her surroundings, eyes darting quickly around. As much as he'd like to know what's going on in that curly dark head of hers, he dares not ask._

"_You never did tell me your name," he says, feigning nonchalance and pulling her closer by the hips._

_She, a good deal shorter than him, tilts her chin up. Their lips brush as she breathes, "No names."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because I must be able to walk away in the morning."_

_His eyelids, previously at half-mast, snap upward. In her face he sees that something is boiling just blow the surface; she is fighting an internal battle. And then he must look into himself, because why does he care? Why does he _want_ to get into her mind?_

_More importantly, why the _hell_ does her statement- _I must be able to walk away_- bother him so much?_

"_Can I tell you my name?"_

"_No. But you may kiss me."_

_It's not a bad offer._

_He captures her mouth with his, winds his arms completely around her small waist. She threads her fingers through his hair, applying mild pressure so that he couldn't pull back even if he wanted to, and deepens the kiss. Their tongues waste no time in meeting; they push and slide past each other until she suddenly withdraws hers in order to bite down on his bottom lip. He groans in pain and in pleasure, feels her smirk. Determined not to be outdone, he presses her against the wall and redirects his kisses to her neck. She leans her head back to allow him better access. Encouraged, he rolls a tender spot of skin between his teeth. The area turns red and then darkens in the early stages of a hickey, and he does the same thing all the way down her neck and across her shoulder, moving aside the strap of her dress when it gets in the way._

"_This needs to come off, yes?" she murmurs, directing one of his hands to her zipper. It surprises him that she's going to allow him to do it, but he's not complaining. His fingers trail vertically across her bare back as the zipper descends, stopping at the base of her spine. She effortlessly slips her arms out of the sleeves, and it falls in a puddle at her feet. In front of him is a simultaneously lean, muscular, and curvy woman, wearing nothing but lace panties and a strapless bra._

_He wants to marvel at the sight of her, but there is no time before she begins to back him toward the bedroom._

0000000000

As they enter a McDonald's in rural Virginia, she wrinkles her nose. "It smells horrible in here."

Tony inhales deeply. "It's the scent of Americana."

"Greasy fast food is Americana?"

"Yep."

Rolling her eyes, Ziva says, "I want a burger and fries. Extra-"

"Pickles. I know."

"I will find us a seat."

She moves past a group of farmers clad in plaid shirts and baseball caps, all staring at the agents like they've never seen city people before, and settles into a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant. When Tony approaches with their food a few minutes later, she doesn't even notice until he reaches down and squeezes her side. She jumps and he laughs. "Ninja senses falling down on the job?"

"I am tired," she grumbles as he slides in across from her. "How much longer?"

"Little less than two hours."

"If you let me drive-"

"No." He unwraps his burger and sinks his teeth into it. "I'd rather live, thanks."

Ziva kicks him in the shin, but appears to be out of retorts. While they eat in relative silence, other customers keep saying "Howdy!" and it causes them to raise their eyebrows at each other. Eventually they end up sharing the pile of fries on the tray in the center of the table. There are only a couple of short ones left when Tony says, "So you really wouldn't have slept with me?"

"Let it go," she groans.

"No, I'm curious. Why not?"

She makes a big show out of allowing her eyes to roam his body, taking in every slight detail. "You are not really my type, Tony."

"Really."

Their eyes meet, and no words are needed for them both to know she is lying.

0000000000

_Cool air is hitting her skin, and she doesn't find that to be terribly fair- her companion is still fully clothed. Her priority, once he is pressed up against the wall, becomes to rectify that. She kisses him thoroughly as she unbuttons his shirt and pushes it down off his shoulders. Then her fingers ghost along the top of his pants, but she is not so quick to remove them. Instead, she presses her pelvis into his. He groans and holds her there, flush against him, and she allows it. As she feels him grow ever harder, she rotates her hips slowly, clockwise and then counter, and he breaks their kiss so he can throw his head back._

"_Well," she taunts gently, her lips against his bare chest, "you seem to like that."_

"_Keep going."_

_Now she undoes the button and zipper on his jeans; he kicks them off and to the side. She runs a hand lightly over his groin, then directs him into the bedroom, sits him down on the bed, and straddles his lap. His hands immediately come to grip her thigh and tangle in her hair, keeping her close as she continues her gyrations. She puts her chin in the crook of his shoulder and shuts her eyes, enjoying the sensation of their grinding together just as much as he appears to be. After a minute or two, she feels lips caressing her jaw, but he has limited patience for that- soon he is lifting her head so he can capture her mouth. Their tongues immediately begin to battle for dominance, a battle which rages on so fiercely that they fall back. She's still on top, so she plants herself down, hard, on his crotch._

"_I am not done with you," she whispers against his chin. She starts to wriggle again, and there are no objections. While the lower half of her body does that, she lightly nibbles the outer shell of his ear. It's meant to tease him, and that it does; she is satisfied with his ragged inhalations and short pants. His hand lands on her ass. He squeezes it, pushes down so as to feel her hip rotations as closely as possible. It's not too long before his other hand begins to toy with her bra; receiving no discouragement from her, he skillfully unclasps it, dislodges it from between their bodies, and tosses it to the floor._

_It takes her by surprise when he flips her onto her back; suddenly, he is the one in control. He kneads her breasts with his hands and she bites back a moan. Her knee bends upward of its own accord and he grabs it, latches her leg onto his hip. The breast he released in order to do so is soon covered by his mouth, and as his tongue swirls around her hard nipple, she finds her fingernails digging into the bed sheets, her back arching._

"_And you seem to like this." Oxygen is scarce in her brain right now; it takes several seconds for her to realize that he is using her earlier words against her. Honestly, she does not really care, because he speaks the truth._

_She does like this, yes._

_He moves into the valley between her breasts and leaves several kisses there. When he moves to the other one, sucking and nibbling at her flesh, stroking the underside of it, she wraps both legs completely around him and twists her fingers into his hair because she just needs to hold onto something. One little whimper escapes and he releases a deep, throaty chuckle against her skin._

_That's when she decides that she's had enough of this. She wants the upper hand here. That is how she operates._

_She grabs the waistband of his boxer shorts and demands, "Off."_

0000000000

"Hey." Tony reaches over to lightly shake her shoulder, and his eyes go wide when her hand subconsciously lands on her holster. "No, no, no. Hey. Ziva, wake up. It's just me."

His voice seems to register in her mind, because her muscles relax and she blinks a couple times. "Hmm?" she asks sleepily, and he is very relieved to see her let go of her gun.

"Sorry," he says, sweeping a couple stray hairs out of her eyes, "but I think we're lost and the damn GPS isn't working. Could you call McGee?"

"Mhm." With slow, stilted movements, she removes her phone from her pocket. His arm is propped on the center console; as she dials, she rests the side of her head against it, and he spares her a surprised glance. "Hello, McGee. Can you tell us where we are?"

He can, although they are so far removed from civilization that it takes a while, and it's quite a bit longer before they get back on track. By that time, thirty minutes have come and gone. Ziva looks even more exhausted. As she returns to leaning against his arm, he asks, "Are you okay?"

"I did not sleep well last night. You're comfortable."

"Glad to hear it." Tony touches her forehead. "You're a bit warm."

Swatting his hand away, she says, "Stop, Tony. I am fine."

He sighs. "I'm… you're kinda worrying me."

"I know," she says quietly, apologetically, and pats his hand. "Thank you."

Over the next few minutes, Ziva's breathing evens out, and then she begins to snore softly. That and the whir of the car's engine are the only sounds to be heard.

0000000000

_The strain of his erection against the fabric of his underwear had grown mildly painful, and he is relieved to be rid of it. Now he lies on his back as her hands and knees form a cage around him. She is hovering, appraising his body with one eyebrow slightly raised. Those perfectly rounded breasts are close enough that he could easily raise his head and taste them again, and he longs to do just that, but she clearly wants to be in charge. He doesn't even know her, and he can tell that she is not to be argued with right now._

_Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she anchors her mouth to his neck and begins to nip. He turns his head, allowing her more room. She bites lightly, and she has him so distracted that he is startled when she reaches down and grabs his cock._

"_Damn it," he gasps, and she laughs into his skin. Her thumb strokes slowly, up and down, stopping occasionally to squeeze him; she raises her head so he can feel her breath on his mouth._

_The woman is teasing him in two different places at the exact same time._

_As she continues to massage him, he runs his hands up the backs of her thighs and over her still-covered ass. He grips her harder with every second that his arousal increases. She smirks. "How is that?"_

"_More."_

"_More where?"_

"_You know where," he hisses, and she finally listens, clutching one of his balls with steadily increasing pressure. The way he rolls his hips toward her hand is completely subconscious, but she takes it as a prompt. Suddenly, her face is gone from above his, and not two seconds later warm, full lips envelope him._

_An expletive escapes. She has caught him off guard again. With her mouth, she moves up and down his shaft, and with her tongue, she traces his tip. His palms press a little harder against the mattress every time she does the latter, and after a few minutes of this, of gasping and cursing, of occasional fondling, his arousal is almost painful. "I'm close," he pants._

_The magic promptly stops._

"_Hey." He is a little woozy from the treatment he just got, but he manages to sit up on his elbows. "What're you doing?"_

"_You'll get there later," she says in the huskiest, sexiest voice he's ever heard, and suddenly he's fine with this. She climbs off of him, stands beside the bed. There is nowhere he wants to look but right at her, and she also keeps her eyes on him while she slips her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slowly brings them down. Down past her knees. Down to her ankles. Down off her feet._

"_You're beautiful," he whispers, staring in amazement at her olive flesh, the curls falling over her bare shoulders and marking her pubic mound. His cock had begun to relax, but now, all the blood rushes back to it. Never, he thinks, has he seen such a gorgeous woman. He reaches toward her. "Come back."_

_She grants his wish by situating her knees next to his shoulders and planting her ass on his chest. His hands find her hips of their own accord. With her legs spread wide, he can see her folds and the insides of her thighs, both glistening, right there in front of him._

"_You're already wet," he murmurs, leaning forward and flicking his tongue over a small tattoo- some sort of flower, and also the hottest thing he's ever seen- on her left thigh. She makes a deep, guttural sound and scoots further forward. Her calves curl behind his head, propping it up._

_From her position atop him, she smiles, head tilted to one side. "You just _might_ be turning me on," she says, and then interlocks her fingers behind his head in order to shove his face between her legs. He knows what she wants and doesn't hesitate to deliver- after all, she did compliment him. As she moans quietly, he alternates between short, quick strokes and long, sweeping ones. She tastes amazing, but it's a strong taste and scent; he can only inhale so much of it at a time. When he needs a break, he drops his head back onto her lower legs and wraps one arm around her waist to hold her steady. His free hand finds her moist curls; his fingers rake through them a couple of times before dipping down and pressing against her sensitive skin._

_A sharp intake of breath causes him to look up. "This okay?" he asks quietly._

"_Perfect," she gasps, eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape, and now he knows that _he _has gotten to _her_. He pays attention to the spots she responds the most strongly to when he rubs circles into them, and he alternates. Each time, he pushes her as far as her breaking point, then removes his hand and waits for her to come down a few steps before starting back up again. He can tell that it's driving her crazy, but at the same time, she enjoys the teasing- she never protests._

_However, her pretense of control evaporates when he simultaneously hooks two fingers inside of her and finds her clit._

"_Oh." Her breathing is quick and heavy, following the same rhythm as the muscles throbbing around his fingers. She tugs, hard, on his hair, and as he pushes deeper inside, her arousal coating his fingers, she exhales harshly. _"Oh."

_He picks up speed, rotating as per her instructions: "Harder. Faster." The arm around her waist moves to grasp her thigh, and he holds tight to it as he buries his face in her stomach, still working below._

"_Harder," she demands, head tilted back, craning toward the ceiling. "Yes. _Yes_."_

_And then he remembers how she stopped just short of his orgasm, and he pulls his fingers away with no warning. She cries out at the loss, then glares down at him. Before she can form words, he smirks and throws her earlier words back in her face. "You'll get there later."_

_She slides off of him and onto the bed. The length of her body presses against his as she pulls him in for a rough, hungry kiss. "How about now?" she asks lowly, and seizes his lip between her teeth. "I want you inside of me."_

"_What a coincidence," he drawls. "I want that, too."_

_With that, he rolls over and promptly fulfills both of their wishes. Her legs, wrapped around his head not sixty seconds ago, wind around his waist; her fingernails stab painfully at his back. He begins to pound into her, reaching up at the same time to tangle his fingers in her messy hair. Her hips mimic his thrusts and they go quicker, harder, closer and closer to climaxing, but their gazes have snagged on each other and they are not looking away. Some unseen force dictates that they keep eye contact; as they do, as they move together, there is an unidentifiable change in the atmosphere. A physical shift. Suddenly, this is not random bar sex that they won't be able to remember in a week. This feels different. It feels _significant, _and he has no idea why._

_Both of their grips turn gentle. His movements within her slow, but do not quite cease. He cradles her head affectionately with one hand, and with the other, he reaches down to rediscover her clit. "Come on," he whispers as her eyes roll back in her head, making her the first one to look away. What happened to teasing and baiting each other? He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He kisses along the base of her throat and rubs quickly. His cock is throbbing in the midst of her wet heat; he is close to release, too._

_And then, with a shudder and a small cry, she comes. Head thrown back in ecstasy, she makes no further noise, but she's shaking. He strokes her forehead through the most intense part of her orgasm; once she has started to descend from her high, he gives an almost violent thrust into her and spills. She holds him tenderly, the way he just held her, and allows him to muffle his scream in her shoulder. When he calms and pulls out, they are quiet, except for the sound of heavy breathing. It is she who breaks the silence. "That was…"_

"_Amazing," he replies, which is completely true, and he so wishes she wouldn't leave in the morning._

0000000000

An hour away from their destination, Tony happens to glance down at Ziva, still asleep on his tingling arm, and is startled to find that her face is flushed. He nudges her the best he can while driving, but she doesn't respond. Sighing, he puts on his turn signal and pulls onto the shoulder of the road.

"Hey," he says gently, taking her face in both hands. "Wake up."

She groans a moment later. Her eyes flicker open. "What are you doing?" she mutters grumpily. "I was sleeping."

Tony laughs, both relieved and self-conscious. "You… looked really pale to me, and you didn't wake up at first… it, uh, freaked me out a little."

The corners of his mouth twitch as he watches her yawn. "I feel better after that nap."

"Good."

They look at each other. He drops his hands back into his lap; Ziva crosses her arms over her chest and raises one eyebrow. "Are we going to go?"

Ignoring her question, Tony asks one of his own. "You really think we never would have hooked up in an alternate universe?"

"Tony," she groans in exasperation. "Honestly."

"I just really think-"

"Okay, _yes_," she interrupts. "Yes, yes, yes, perhaps we would have. But I do not like to think about it."

Poorly disguised hurt tinges his voice. "Why not?"

Ziva sighs and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. She holds it firmly and stares at him, though he refuses to look directly at her. "Because, Tony. You are… my friend. My _best _friend. I do not like to think about being without you… and I do not want to think about things that could lead to that. Such as sleeping with you."

"But I'm talking about an _alternate_ universe, Ziva," he says. "That means-"

"I know what it means. But we have… a history, yes? And we've been on the verge of crossing that line several times." She leans forward, maneuvers her head so that he is forced to meet her gaze. "Your alternate universe is too close to reality for my comfort."

His eyes fall to hers and, briefly, to her lips. "So… does that mean that since maybe we would have done it in another universe… it's possible in this one, too?"

Ziva's stare turns hard. "You know it is. But it will not happen, because it's not a good idea."

She lets go of his hand and sits back in the passenger seat. Tony opens and closes his mouth several times. In the end, he heads back into the highway traffic without a word.

0000000000

_Her internal alarm clock wakes her up at five, just like every morning. She blinks several times before remembering where she is: in the apartment of a man whose name she doesn't know but whose body has left a permanent impression on her. They are still in the position they fell asleep in: he on his back, she using his chest as a pillow. Even now, she is sore and sticky between her legs. As she shifts, the blanket falls away from her breast, and she sees two or three hickeys on it._

_The physical evidence proves that it wasn't a dream._

_Three times, it happened. Both of them wanted to recover between episodes, so during that little lull, they talked. Nothing deep, nothing serious; she is certain that he has a guard, just like her, and that it doesn't come down easily. They did end up sharing the first letters of their names. She acted hesitant, but she was actually eager- and she wishes, honestly, that she could have allowed herself to reveal the entire thing so she could hear the sound of it falling from his lips. His starts with a _T_. American names are foreign to her; she was never able to guess it._

_She slowly rolls out of his embrace, waits to make sure he doesn't awaken, and then swings her legs over the side of the bed. The loss of warmth causes more emptiness in her stomach than she would like. From the floor, she grabs her undergarments and slips them on, and then goes to retrieve her dress from the hallway. At the door, she glances back._

_He is sleeping peacefully; the empty expanse of his side beckons to her. Why does she want to return to him so badly?_

_On a whim, she goes to his nightstand and quietly digs around inside the top drawer until she finds a pen and a receipt. She turns the receipt over and, ignoring her nagging conscience, choosing not to consider what her father would think, strays from the original plan: she writes down her cell phone number and signs it _Z_._

0000000000

At long last, they arrive at a convenience store a couple miles away from the suspect's house. Tony says that _no, _he absolutely cannot wait any longer to use the bathroom, and she sighs in annoyance. Inside, she heads straight to the women's restroom without a word. He stares after her for a moment before going into the men's.

Once he's relieved himself, he wanders up and down the aisles and finds Ziva near the sour gummy worms. She is holding up two different brands and eyeing them critically; as he clears his throat, her muscles tense.

"Um." Tony stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Listen, I'm sorry. You were right about… about everything. I shouldn't have brought it up…"

Now she looks at him, arms falling to her sides. She seems more curious than annoyed.

Tony furrows his brow. "What?"

"May I see something?"

"What do you-"

Ziva puts a finger to his mouth, effectively cutting him off, and then replaces it with her lips. She keeps her eyes open in order to gauge his reaction; when he doesn't pull away, she closes them and places a hand on the back of his neck. Just as the synapses in his brain start firing again and he begins kissing her the way he wants to, she pulls away.

"Are you teasing me?" he growls.

"I wanted to see," she says. "It's been a very long time since that undercover assignment. I understand… why you think this already would have happened if circumstances were different."

Tony narrows his eyes and places a hand at her hip, drawing her a little bit closer. "And now do you think… that you might want to make it happen in _these_ circumstances?"

They are treading carefully, choosing their words with the utmost precision. Ziva's thumb strokes the skin just beneath his earlobe as she gently replies, "We have things to discuss."

"We do," he agrees. "Over dinner?"

When she kisses him this time, he responds immediately. It's quick and leaves him wanting more, but it also causes him to grin.

"You and me, Ziva David," he says, and she laughs at the rhyme. "We were always gonna end up this way."


End file.
